


Hell On Heels

by theragingstorm



Category: Bad Blood - Taylor Swift (Music Video), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Crossover, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Gen, Language, Worldbuilding, mentions of HYDRA, minor mentions of tayvin, some violence, taylor is older here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theragingstorm/pseuds/theragingstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the mysterious intel group known only as The Agency, headed by a former S.H.I.E.L.D. member, start taking an interest in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s more classified operations, only the Black Widow herself can find out what they're up to.<br/>But even Natasha could not have guessed what the great Catastrophe had been planning. Or how the encounter would have ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell On Heels

**Author's Note:**

> Before I published this, it was lurking in the back of my brain for months. After I finally got started, it took too long to plan out and spin the two worlds together, from Arsyn's belonging to HYDRA to Taylor's former affiliations.  
> But in the end...I'm glad I did. I got to learn that I get a huge amount done while listening to the Captain America: The Winter Soldier OST soundtrack. (Of course, that may be just because I love that movie.)

As the computers blinked and beeped frantically, and the alarm rang through the entire section of the building, Fury glared down at the nervous technicians. Long lines of code were strung across their computers’ screens, as well as the dreaded words: SECURITY BREACH.

“So let me get this straight,” Fury said slowly. “Despite the fact that we poured thousands of taxpayer dollars into your department just to ensure we didn’t get hacked again…we still got hacked again.”

“Y-yes, Director,” stammered one of the techies. “And it um…seems to have been The Agency again.”

“Really.”

“That damned bunch of obnoxious, leather-clad hussies,” muttered another techie.

“ _I_  like the leather,” his friend sniggered.

Fury cleared his throat, and all the techies immediately shut up.

“If it is The Agency, which it probably is, you weak motherfuckers failed once again to stop them from finding S.H.I.E.L.D. info." 

"Please sir,” pleaded the first one in a pathetic tone. Anyone would think he was about to say “I want some more.” “Don’t fire us. We put up three firewalls, all with passwords. We tried our best to keep them out.”

Fury rolled his eye in disgust.

“What did they find?”

“Pulling that up right now sir,” called another. “It’ll take a minute, though. Damn, this is annoying…”

Fury decided to pass the time by alternately staring at the lines of code and glowering at the techies. While he did, he brooded on the hacking. 

The Agency were a sneaky bunch of intels. No one knew very much about them, except that they were almost entirely composed of female agents (the subject of many crude jokes among the male members of S.H.I.E.L.D). They seemed to be charged with vigilantism a lot, and had been hacking agencies all over the world to get information for years. 

He wasn’t sure yet what they wanted with S.H.I.E.L.D. info, but it couldn’t be good for him. 

“Got it sir,” the techie announced. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m pretty sure that you will.”

Fury walked over to her station, and peered over her shoulder. It took all his training and patience not to gnash his teeth in anger when he saw what The Agency had stolen. 

An extensive list of files. All pertaining to the highly classified program known as the Avengers Initiative. 

“How important is it, sir?”

Fury slowly rose and glared ferociously at the cringing technicians.

“That is none of your business. But this is on you little shits if The Agency uses this against us.”

Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the computer room.

 

//

 

Catastrophe’s best hacker leaned back in his seat and gestured proudly at his computer screen.

“All set, Director Cat. I got everything you wanted.”

“Welvin, I’ve told you all a thousand times not to call me that,” Catastrophe scolded him. But he didn’t see that she hid a smile as she said that. 

Turning back to the computer, he shrugged. 

“Best apologies, ma'am. But like I was telling to you, I got all those files you asked for from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database. And now after all that exhausting work, I need a smoothie. And one of Lucky’s cigars.”

“Good luck trying to get her to share with you.” Catastrophe peered over his shoulder. For now, the scrawling lines of code within the files made no sense to her. But with Welvin’s and her other technicians’ expert decoding, she soon would. 

“So no cigar. But how about that smoothie, ma'am?”

Catastrophe’s laugh sounded like the trill of an angel. It was usually the first thing her allies and the last thing her enemies ever heard. 

“That shit may’ve worked on Headmistress before, but not on me.” She stood up straight, her mind buzzing. S.H.I.E.L.D. had never relinquished their secrets easily, but this second hacking had finally paid off. Possibilities and hopes for the future of The Agency were starting to seem more tangible. 

Turning on her booted heel, she strode over to the door, still talking.

“Can you have the files decoded and printed out for me by tomorrow?”

He snorted.

“You know who you’re asking that of, ma'am?”

“Naturally.”

The door clicked shut behind her. All the information on the Avengers Initiative would be hers by breakfast time the next day.

 

//

 

Fury was not at all surprised to find an assassin in his car the next morning. One with her feet on the dash, no less.

“Agent Romanoff. Glad you could make it,” he greeted her. “We’re headed over to my office.”

“Course I could make it,” Natasha replied, folding one black leather boot over the other. Her heels dug into the dashboard, leaving scuff marks on it. “Never miss out on an assignment where we’re facing somebody as smart as me. Makes it more fun that way.”

“Yeah, fun for you maybe.” Fury climbed into the driver’s seat and began plotting the least conspicuous route to the Triskelion. “The bigger problem though, is that we don’t actually fucking  _know_  how smart the leader of these people are. That’s what galls me.”     

Natasha looked at him, her brash stare beginning to fade. 

“So your problem is that you don’t know about the leader of The Agency?”

“I just said that.” He looked over at her.

Natasha’s gaze turned to the view in front of her. She stared out the window for a long moment, her eyes hard.

“Well, that’s one problem that we can solve, anyway.”

 

//

 

As usual, the main training room was full of productivity that morning. Knockout was busy beating the shit out of – sorry,  _teaching_  – a new recruit. Destructa had put a new explosion mark on the floor. Dilemma and Cut-Throat were busy philosophically debating the best way to slit a vein by threatening to shoot each other. Good, all of it. 

But the best thing by far was Welvin running past the knife-throwing area with a thick file in his hand. 

Catastrophe’s spirits immediately rose. 

“There’s my breakfast reading material for today,” she murmured as she walked over. 

The file was as heavy as she’d expected. Papers and printed photos were all but spilling out of it. As she strode across the training room and opened the file, Nick Fury’s one-eyed face scowled up at her.

Catastrophe smiled.

She closed the file again and headed over to the elevator for the upper levels.  

“You look like you’re in a good mood, Director ma'am,” remarked Knockout’s newest punching bag – sorry,  _new recruit._ The dark-haired girl looked no older than eighteen, and she had two black eyes and blood coming from her mouth. Despite that, she had a confident stance and a direct gaze, which endeared her to Catastrophe instantly.

“Yeah,” she said. “I suppose I am." 

She climbed into the elevator, but before she shut the door, she said:

"By the way: Knockout always waits for you to make the first move. Don’t do it.”

The elevator door shut.

 

//

 

Entering the main S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities had always both intrigued Natasha and made her a little uneasy. It may have been the source of her salvation, but the Triskelion – and the whole organization – worked very much like a machine. Dependable, reliable, all planned out…and just waiting for somebody to stick a metaphorical branch in the cogs. 

But who would’ve guessed that it would be The Agency? With none other than the former Agent Swift at its head?

The people she passed by all seemed on edge, and for once it had nothing to do with her. They all exchanged worried looks, and some were bickering with the techies who’d made the foolish mistake of leaving the computer rooms.

“You know something I don’t about who did this, don’t you Agent Romanoff?” The way Fury phrased it made it sound like a statement instead of a question. 

Without looking around, Natasha nodded.  

“Do you know who the leader is?”

At that, she turned her head and gestured towards a group of curious agents who had gathered near them.

“Not here,” she muttered.  

He nodded. Disgruntled, the eavesdroppers shuffled off. Two young women – one with pale skin and dark blond hair; the other with an olive tan and glasses – started muttering to each other. 

As they walked through the building, Natasha stayed quiet the whole time. Her silence didn’t break in the elevator, nor in the hallway that lead to Fury’s office. It was only when they were safely in the office with the door firmly locked that she decided to break her silence.

Natasha sat down in the director’s chair and finally began to speak. 

“Do you remember Agent Swift and Agent Gomez from a few years ago?”

Fury leaned one hand on his desk, frowning.

“How could I forget those two…Gomez went rogue, betrayed her own partner and tried to launch an inside attack on us. Claimed to be working for some organization that had more power over us than we knew…bullshit of course, but you can never be too careful. Swift died when Gomez turned on her…” He groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Unless she didn’t.”

“She’s the new leader of The Agency.”

He groaned again.

“And you know this, how?”

Natasha went silent again. She remembered the call that she’d gotten on her comm, out of nowhere, several months previously. Although she’d been suspicious of the unknown caller, she’d still answered…and had immediately recognized the voice of the former S.H.I.E.L.D. member. 

Swift had changed a lot. No longer was she the eager, naive young girl that had been signed on nearly ten years previously. She was direct, focused, and obviously jaded; with a tone that expected to be obeyed. She had carried a request of Natasha: to continue being the Black Widow, but for a different organization instead. 

But instead of telling Fury that, what Natasha said was:

“I’d prefer to keep that to myself.”

He looked annoyed, but didn’t question her about it anymore. 

“Taylor Swift of all people…” he muttered, pacing the length of the office. “She was such a terrible agent. Too trusting of everyone. She should’ve been fired long before her partner turned on her.”

Natasha looked out the window at the New York skyline. 

“I doubt she’s still like that, sir.”

 

//

 

After breakfast, Taylor ventured down to one of the smaller training rooms and began taking her frustration and anger out on an innocent punching bag.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. file was not what she had hoped for. It had nothing that would benefit her agents. Only a plan to bring together a bunch of mismatched, volatile people with strange abilities and freakish mutations. All men, as far as she saw. Almost none trained properly. It was too long a shot to work, too far-fetched to expect them to recruit anyone who could actually do the job properly. 

Taylor’s knuckles, already sore from rounds with new recruits the previous day, were screaming in protest as she hit the punching bag. Even under the protective gloves, they felt like they were going to split. But she kept attacking the bag anyway.

After the physical and cyber attacks from HYDRA, The Agency had lost too much money. Government rewards and intelligence could only go so far; especially with all the massive budgets that each department needed. She had to finance them some other way. 

Headmistress would’ve slapped Taylor upside the head for suggesting that The Agency couldn’t function on its own. Maybe Headmistress had been a stronger  leader than her. But Taylor couldn’t just let the people who’d brought her up from nothing be driven into the ground.

The insides of her gloves were starting to feel wet with blood. Still she kept punching, kept fighting, kept at it. Story of her life, really.

“Jesus Christ, Cat, are you trying to break your hands?”

Taylor wheeled around. Standing in the doorway, dressed in her training gear with her gloved hands on her hips was Knockout. 

“Morning, K.” Taylor peeled the gloves off her hands. Sure enough, her knuckles had split. 

Knockout didn’t reply, but her eyes grew wide at the sight of Taylor’s injured hands. Within a few paces, she covered the distance between the two of them and took Taylor’s hands in her own.

“You asshole.” The profanity, as always, sounded strange in K’s bright voice. “You’re going to bust something. You already  _did._ " 

Taylor only sighed.

Knockout sighed too.

"You’ve been working too hard, Cat. You need to take some time off. Go see Adam and the kid again. Or your parents.”

“K, I can’t.” Her voice was unusually plaintive. “We’ve lost too much to HYDRA. I need to save us.”

Knockout didn’t argue, probably because she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she started over to a different punching bag and began attacking it with less of her usual vigor. 

Taylor hung up her gloves and left the room. She had work to do.

 

//

 

Natasha reclined on a couch outside of the main council room. The sound of raised squabbling voices was the most prominent noise coming from it – that and the occasional fist thump on the table from Fury. It was what Natasha automatically associated with anything political at this point.

Nobody in the higher hierarchies of S.H.I.E.L.D. was really good at ass-kissing, maybe because they weren’t used to it anymore. They were all so stubborn, they didn’t realize that to get what you wanted, you sometimes had to pretend that you were letting your opponent win.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway behind her.

“Figured you’d come, Coulson,” she said without turning around. “Taking a break from watching Captain America sleep?”

The footsteps stopped.

“How do you  _do_  that?”

Natasha shrugged.

“I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Well, when you put it  _that_  way, you make it sound creepy.”

“Eh, it’s not he’s going to find out if you don’t tell him.” She finally looked over her shoulder. “But are you just going to stand there?”

“Um…I’m fine.” Coulson fidgeted.

“Suit yourself.”

She turned back to face the door again. The voices were more muted now. That was nice. It allowed her mind to run without distraction.

The Agency were not vain or prideful. They would not let slip their secrets to a prisoner; so allowing herself to be captured was out. 

Nor did they seem the type to blab each others’ secrets; even under bribery or threat. So capturing one of them was out.

The only logical course of action was to head to The Agency’s facilities and demand an audience with Swift herself.

“What will you do if they veto your mission?”

Coulson’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

As it did, Natasha turned and smiled at him. It was the kind of smile that a tigress might give right before it went to kill a human hunter.

“Why would their permission matter to me?”

His eyes grew very wide.

The door to the council room opened. Fury stepped out, looking irritated. But then again, he usually did.

“What did they say, Director?” Coulson asked, clearly relieved to talk to someone other than Natasha.  

“They said yes. Eventually.”

A genuine, tiny smile twitched over her lips.

“But they want a group of ops to follow you, Agent Romanoff, and wait nearby; in case you can’t handle it.” Here he snorted. It was the closest he came to saying that he thought her capable.

Natasha stretched back in her seat, slightly disappointed but not surprised. As long as the ops stayed out of the building, she could handle it. She’d just have to have a talk with them before the mission started.

“You know where you’re going?" 

"Oh, I know.” The address that Swift had made the mistake of giving her was still a clear memory. 

Without saying another word, Natasha got to her feet and started walking away.

“Be ready to leave tonight, Agent Romanoff!”

“You know I’ll be,” she called over her shoulder as she kept walking. She would be, she knew. But first, she had to suit up.

 

//

 

Taylor went to the building’s shooting range with Destructa and Slay-Z after dinner that night. She’d spent the past day all but drowning in paperwork, and Knockout had practically dragged her away from her desk.

Secretly, she was grateful. The shooting range was both good practice and a way to blow off steam – literally. 

As usual, Slay and her slim handgun were leaving neat little circles in her human cutout’s head, and Destructa was using her trusty bazooka to completely obliterate her own cutout every time.  

“Do you  _always_  have to bring that massive thing?” Slay complained after Destructa blew up her fifth target in a row. The other woman just gave her a confused look.

“This is my smallest one…”

Taylor laughed. Her gun fired, blasting right through her target’s heart.

As it did, the communication device on her wrist started beeping. As she had her protective headset on, it took her almost a minute to notice this.

She removed her headset, taking a moment to wince at the influx of noise. Then she raised the comm to her lips.

“Catastrophe speaking.”

 

//

 

From the outside, the building looked like just another set of offices. It wasn’t as big or conspicuous as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s own HQ, which made sense. The Agency lay low…unless they were hacking computer systems or trying to recruit new agents.

Dressed in her black leather catsuit, Natasha strode casually down the sidewalk. Nighttime in Manhattan was extremely convenient for her – you could do anything you wanted and none of the New Yorkers would bat an eye.

The car that had brought her lurked a block away. Stationed on various buildings around her, the S.H.I.E.L.D. ops waited, guns at the ready. 

But this mission was all hers.

Several feet from the building’s front door, she drew a professional air about herself and raised her comm to her lips.

“Call Catastrophe.”

After about a minute of waiting, the high female tone emanated from the device.

“Catastrophe speaking.”

 

//

 

Taylor waited a moment, wondering who it might be, before the low woman’s voice rolled over her ears.

“Hello, Catastrophe." 

Taylor briefly froze. Then she forced her own voice into neutral territory. 

"Black Widow.”

“In the flesh. Well, sort of.”

By then, Slay and Destructa had looked over curiously. Taylor waved them off, mouthing  _It’s nothing._

“So, have you changed your mind, Widow?”

“Hardly.”

Taylor’s spine tingled. Her head snapped up, eyes roving across the room before alighting on a lone window. She had to strain her eyes to see it; but across the street, on various building tops, were men dressed in black. No doubt they had sniper rifles trained on her building.

Taylor’s mouth went dry. Then hot anger began to crackle over her skin.

“You have the fucking  _nerve_  to point S.H.I.E.L.D. snipers at us, Romanoff?” she hissed. “My agents will rip yours to shreds.”

“Relax there, Catastrophe,” Romanoff’s voice told her. “All I want is to talk.”

Taylor’s mouth fell open.

 

//

 

Natasha waited a moment for the silence to break. When it did, Swift sounded even angrier.

“To  _talk?_ ”

“Yes. To talk.” Natasha kept her tone perfectly flat. “And I think you should listen to me.”

“Why should I do that?”   
Natasha had to admit that Swift was not going to give up without a fight. It was a good quality to have, when it wasn’t being used against her.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll have to come in and make you talk to me. It’s urgent.”

There was a long, loaded pause. When Swift spoke again, she sounded almost sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Romanoff. But I cannot deal with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s problems right now. I have enough of my own.”

The call ended. Natasha felt a cold prickle of anger in the base of her spine. So Swift could meddle in others’ information, but not deal with their problems? How very wrong she was. 

Not to mention there was a very suspicious game being played here.

Natasha raised her comm to her lips again.

“Hold your fire. I’m going in.”

 

//

 

Taylor uneasily left Slay and Destructa behind in the shooting range, her comm seeming to burn on her wrist. What was S.H.I.E.L.D. planning to do with her agents?

Almost unconsciously, Taylor reached up to a tiny chain around her neck. Hanging from the chain, tucked safely under folds of leather, was a slim gold ring.

She fingered her ring meditatively as she started through the hallways towards her office. She was so lost in worried thought that at first she didn’t notice the alarm that began to wail through the building.

It wasn’t until Justice and Luna ran by, abruptly shoving her to the side, that she noticed something was wrong.

“What the fuck…?”

“Someone broke into the building!” Luna hollered over her shoulder as she ran. “I’d advise getting on it right away!”

“Security’s not doing such a great job!” Justice added before the two older women rounded a corner. 

Taylor stood numbly for a moment. Then her hands clenched into fists.

“You just don’t quit, do you Romanoff?” she growled.

The next moment, she too was running through the building, shouting orders to her agents.

“Get to the ground floor immediately!” she roared, half to the people around her and half into her comm. Instantly, her voice was broadcast to the entire building. “We have a security breach. This is not a drill; I repeat, we have a security breach! There is a potentially hostile person in the building. Move, move!”

Guns in hand, her agents flanked her sides and charged down the stairs. Some had knives. Some had stranger weapons, like katanas or nunchucks. All looked somewhere between furious and incredulous.  

“Seal off the underground levels,” Taylor ordered several people, who split off to do just that. “Lock down the computer systems. Keep an eye out for anyone unauthorized.”

Several more people left. That still left a considerable number at her side, readying their weapons.

Taylor was beginning to feel better about their chances when they reached the ground floor. All the security guards were unconscious. There was no sign of Romanoff.

She froze in place. Several others gasped.

There was a long minute of silence. 

“So who  _is_  this person, anyway?” someone finally demanded. 

Taylor exhaled hard.

“The Black Widow.”

Gasps and incredulous yells spread through the ranks.

“And you want us to fight  _her?_ ” someone else exclaimed angrily. “Hell no. If I had a death wish, I’d just shoot myself. No offense Catastrophe, but trying to take on the Black Widow is suicide.”

“There are hundreds of us and only one of her,” another pointed out. Everyone started to argue.

“She’s not here to fight,” Taylor muttered to herself. “If she were, those guards would be dead, not unconscious. It’s me that she wants…”

She raised her voice so that it cut through the squabbling. 

“Everybody listen to me! New orders.” She raised the comm to her wrist as well. “Those not monitoring the computers or lower levels are to split into small groups and move though the building, searching for the unauthorized person. Use extreme caution. If you find her, you are to bring her to my office.  _No killing._ It’s more likely that she’ll kill you anyway. Understand?”

There was a reluctant, but loud, murmur of assent from her agents.

“Good.”

Taylor watched them split up, then hoisted her own gun.

Time to find Romanoff. And time to see why S.H.I.E.L.D. thought that this incident was so damn important.

 

//

 

Natasha took an elevator up from the ground floor, leaving the unconscious security guards behind. As she rose up, she kept her eyes trained on the doors…someone was bound to try to come in eventually.

At the tenth floor, someone did. The door opened to two women who looked like they might be in their forties.

They barely had time for their eyes to grow wide in realization before she clapped each on the temple. Both agents collapsed to the floor outside.

The doors shut. The elevator kept rising.

Her guess as to which floor Swift’s office would be on was certainly on a whim. But one supported by faint memories of the young, curly-haired S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit.

At the thirteenth floor, the elevator finally stopped. Her heart pounding, Natasha climbed out. She let her muscles relax, but kept her eyes flicking warily over the empty hallway. She kept walking, her gaze alternating between the plaques on the doors and the rest of the long hallway. It was the perfect opportunity to be ambushed.

At the end of the hallway, a huge steel door awaited her. A four-number keypad was hanging on the wall beside the door, and under the keypad was a plaque that read: DIRECTOR.

“Surprising lack of security,” Natasha muttered. “One would think she’d have a retinal scanner at least…”

Keeping her senses tuned to the hallway behind her, she took a case of fingerprint powder out of her utility belt. One quick puff, and the powder dusted over the keypad, settling over three numbers:  _0, 1, 7._  There was a tiny bit more powder over the  _1._     

First she tried 1-1-7-0.

The door remained shut.

1-0-7-1.

Still shut.

“What could those numbers mean…” she thought out loud. “Something personal to Swift…someone’s birthday?”

Next she tried 0-1-1-7.

There was a dull  _clunk,_  and the door gently swung open. Still cautious, Natasha slipped inside, pulling the door closed behind her. 

The office was huge, and the walls were painted a very light shade of blue. Giant windows stretched almost the entire length, and a black computer screen dominated one wall. A long wooden desk stretched alongside one of the windows.

She headed over to the desk and started examining the drawers. The first two had only Agency-related files. The third appeared to be empty; except for a single Polaroid.

Intrigued, Natasha picked it up and studied it. To her surprise, it featured Swift; short-haired, fresh-faced, and wearing jeans and a white blouse. She had one arm around a tall man with dark blond hair, a scruffy beard, and green eyes. Her other arm was toting a tiny girl of maybe two with frizzy light blond pigtails and the man’s green eyes. All three of them were beaming at the camera. 

Natasha felt an unexpected flood of emotion sweep through her. So maybe not all of the cheerful curly-haired girl had been lost after all. Some of her was still there…and some had become a part of another cheerful curly-haired girl.

Smiling faintly, she set the photo on the desk. Then she began feeling along the inside of the drawer it had come out of. Like she’d predicted, there was a false bottom. After a couple minutes of struggling, it popped out.

Tucked neatly inside was a different file. There was no title, but she knew what it was about.

The only question was…why?

The thought had only just occurred to her when she registered the sound of heels clicking on the floor. Her head snapped up, and her gun was in her hand just as another pointed directly at her. 

Swift stood before her, clad in black leather and heeled boots. As well as the gun in her hand, she had another on her hip; with several knives and unrecognizable instruments dangling from her own utility belt. Topping it all off with scarlet lips, wild hair, and black-rimmed eyes, she was a far cry both from her former self that S.H.I.E.L.D. had recruited and from the smiling woman in the picture. Her blue eyes blazed with fury.

“Tell me, Romanoff,” she enunciated. “What the actual  _fuck_  are you doing here?”

 

//

 

Taylor couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this kind of anger. Irritation towards little things, frustration towards bankruptcy, white-hot rage towards Arsyn and her bosses at HYDRA; those were not the same. This anger was laced with fear and suspicion. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. would not have sent the Black Widow for no reason.

Then she remembered.

“So, because I told you where our facility is, you brought yourself and an army of ops to my doorstep,” she said, her voice hard. 

Romanoff shrugged. Her body looked relaxed, but Taylor was not fooled. The ex-KGB hitwoman’s grip on her own gun was like death.

“Well, that’s gratitude for you.” Sarcasm found its way into Taylor’s voice. “I offer to enlist you among the closest to equals you’ll ever find, and in return you rat me out to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Romanoff rolled her eyes.

“That’s because I  _work_  for S.H.I.E.L.D., Swift,” she replied. “I assume you remember how I  _declined_ your generous offer?”

“Oh, I remember.” Taylor didn’t lower her gun. 

Her eyes locked with Taylor’s, Romanoff sank down into the director’s chair. Her chair. 

The other woman didn’t say anything else for a while, her eyes strangely downcast. Directly at a spot on her desk, in fact. Taylor chose to follow her gaze…and almost gasped aloud.

Her picture…

“Your husband and daughter?” For a moment, something like sympathy flashed in Romanoff’s eyes.

“If you tell  _anyone_ …” Taylor snarled. “I will  _personally_  make you wish you were never born. They’re innocent civilians.”

“I’m not going to.” Something else flashed in the Black Widow’s eyes. “I…know some people with similar situations.” Her gaze turned back to the picture one more time, then she straightened and became all business. “Besides, you’re right. They have no part in this.”

Slowly, Taylor finally lowered her handgun. Her grip on it, however, did not loosen.

“So what do you intend to accomplish by coming here, Romanoff?”

 

//

 

Natasha’s pulse rang in her ears as she stared unblinkingly at The Agency’s leader.

“Well, to begin: you stole S.H.I.E.L.D. info. As you can expect, S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t exactly like that.”

“Yeah, well, we all have to put up with things we don’t exactly like, do we?”

Natasha’s lips twitched. Swift was alright. Under different circumstances, they might’ve gotten along.

“I’d love to see you tell that to the Council. Anyway, I’m serious,  _Director_  Catastrophe. We’re curious: why go to all the trouble of hacking us twice and stealing info about a program that doesn’t even apply to you?”

Those seemed to be the magic words. At the last statement, Swift’s throat hitched; ever so slightly. The Agency’s leader didn’t speak for a long few moments.

When she did, her voice was low and some more of the fiery rage had left her face.

“Tell me. Does S.H.I.E.L.D. consider itself in any danger?”

Natasha was taken aback by the question. Her next feeling was worry. Did Swift know something about some foe she didn’t?

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has been doing some recruiting and is working to harness an alternate energy source,” she replied neutrally.

Swift’s eyes flickered for just a moment.

“Enough recruiting? There are powers out there…powers that you don’t seem to know about. That–” Her gaze moved to the Avengers file poking out of the drawer “–you don’t seem to have the right troops for.”

That was the moment Natasha understood. Swift had wanted the program to somehow benefit herself and her own agents. But the program had expressed no interest for anyone like her agents.

Then Natasha made a decision. One that was certain to get her in trouble; but if she phrased it right, might be able to get her out of that trouble too.

“Depends on how you look at it,” she said. “Would you happen to know some troops?”

Swift went completely still. Her eyes turned calculating, and Natasha waited for the answer.

 

//

 

Taylor’s first instinct was to leap at the opportunity. But her experiences from the last few years told her to get a grip on that instinct.

She could not be naive again. She could no longer rush blindly into potentially dangerous situations.

But for the sake of her agents…

“Perhaps,” she responded in an emotionless voice. “And you would not give S.H.I.E.L.D. a private tour of the inside of my headquarters?”

“You think they won’t really want to know?”

“Maybe.” Taylor leaned in close. “But it seems to me that you keep a lot of secrets anyway, Black Widow.”

Romanoff raised an eyebrow. Then, unexpectedly, she let out a small laugh.

“Touché.” Her lips quirked. “Lead the way, Catastrophe.”

Taylor waited until Romanoff had holstered her gun before doing the same. Even so, as she walked ahead, she kept every nerve alert to ensure she wouldn’t be ambushed.

The door shut behind them. As they headed down the hallways and into the elevator, Taylor could feel Romanoff’s eyes burning into the back of her head.

“Shut your eyes.”

The other woman cocked a brow.

“Just do it.”

Taylor slipped her finger under the handrail and touched a minuscule screen underneath. The elevator began to descend much more quickly than normal.

“Can I look now?”

She stifled a laugh.

“No.”

 Almost ten minutes later, the elevator slid to a smooth halt. The doors opened.

“You can look now.”

The doors had opened into the vast main training room. Normally, it would have been full of people, brandishing weapons and fighting and working hard. But then, it was all but empty. The only other person was the ever-present Dilemma; one hand holding a gun and the other clenched into a fist.

When she saw Romanoff, she raised both.

“You!” she snarled. “I’m gonna fucking knock you into – wait a sec, are you with her? What the fuck?”

Taylor stepped forward.

“I’ll explain later. Where are the others?”

“Patrolling the building.”

“All of them?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Is there  _anyone_  down here besides you?”

“The janitorial staff is doing a bang-up job of cleaning last week’s bloodstains off the floor.”

Romanoff snorted.

“Get all the field agents down here. Tell them it’s my orders.”

Dilemma nodded, still looking confused; then raised her comm to her lips.

“Lockdown override. Director’s orders. All field agents to proceed to the lower levels, Training Room A immediately. Black Widow is – apparently – no longer a threat to us. I repeat, director’s orders.”

Taylor looked over at Romanoff, her heart hammering.

“Ready to meet my girls?”

To her surprise, Romanoff actually smiled.

“I’d be delighted to.”

 

//

 

Natasha had long since perfected her poker face. It came in handy during interrogations and undercover missions. It also came in handy for beating Clint at cards. Watching The Agency’s best perform, she was determined to give nothing away.

With her features composed of marble, she stood and observed. 

The agents, clearly aware that something important was at stake, seemed determined to give nothing but their best. They shot at various targets with different firearms, dodged and flipped their way through flying obstacles, engaged each other in fierce hand-to-hand combat, raced both on foot and on motorcycles, and followed each new order without a beat of hesitation. In some ways, they conducted themselves better than many S.H.I.E.L.D. members.

Natasha finally watched them assemble themselves into a row in front of her, their gazes fairly daring her to criticize. 

She said nothing.

“What’s your judgement, Romanoff?” Swift asked, slowly pacing in front of her. “Are they up to it?”

Natasha’s gaze turned from the row of proud women to Swift. She had to admit that the agents were good. Better than good. They were very dangerous; with grit, talent, and excellent training.

But what about their leader?

“I have one more thing to ask of you before I make up my mind,” she said loudly. 

Swift halted.

“What else do you want?”

Natasha’s gaze went eye-to-eye with the other woman.

There was a pause.

“I want you to fight me. One-on-one. No weapons.”

Swift went completely still. The silence seemed tangible as the agents watched their leader to see what she would do. For a moment, Natasha worried that she would refuse.

Then Swift nodded, her jaw tight.

“What the hell. I’ve already got scars in all the most awkward places anyway. Gave up bikinis a long time ago.”

Natasha smirked, even as adrenaline began to course through her veins.

“They’re not my thing either, to be honest.”

The members of The Agency, somber as funeral-goers, quickly set up the fighting ring. Their eyes grew wide with apprehension as Natasha climbed into the ring.

Swift stopped to murmur something to another blond woman, then stepped into the ring with her head forced high. The veins were tight in her throat and she occasionally gave a hard swallow. Natasha couldn’t help but admire her courage.

For a minute, they did nothing but circle the other.

“You ready?”

“What do you think?”

Natasha smiled.

Then she lunged.

 

//

 

Taylor dropped to the ground, but Romanoff’s fist still caught her in the shoulder. Even the glancing blow was like getting hit with a professionally pitched fastball.

But her eyes didn’t even have time to well up before Romanoff wheeled around.  
Arms like metal vises clamped around her neck, and Taylor saw spots. But one vicious kick to her captor’s legs and Romanoff let go, staggering back.

Taylor kicked again from the hip, her booted heel catching her opponent in the chest. Romanoff flew backwards to the edge of the ring. 

Her agents – obviously not biased at all – cheered and hollered.

But Romanoff hit the floor and slid forwards, her heels knocking Taylor in the knees. She fell forwards.

Angry cries rose from the audience.

Taylor turned it into a flip and came up standing before she lunged at Romanoff, catching her opponent around the waist with her legs. The two of them somersaulted across the ring together, repeatedly punching and slamming each others’ heads against the concrete floor. 

When her ears were ringing and her skull felt like it had split open, Taylor finally rolled away. The two leapt to their feet. Taylor was jabbed in the ribs so hard her breath was knocked away. Barely breathing, she punched Romanoff in the chin with enough force to snap her head back.  

This was like no opponent Taylor had ever fought before. By now, usually whomever she faced would be unconscious or dead. This woman was her equal at the very least.

Her chest on fire, she took a single moment to rest. But that moment was long enough.

Romanoff’s legs snaked around her chest, and her whole body pressed down against Taylor’s bruised ribs. She fell backwards and hit the floor, shockwaves of pain running from her head down all across her body. Romanoff’s thighs pressed mercilessly into her ribcage, keeping her there.

Ten seconds. Ten seconds to rise. 

It felt like longer.

All noise except her own heartbeat faded into the background. She shut her eyes.

The faces of the members of The Agency swam before her lids. Who’d taken her in, trained her, fought Arsyn and HYDRA at her side. Who made her their director when Headmistress was killed in action. Who were depending on her.

Her eyes flew open.

Two seconds left.

Her fist flew up, her knuckles slamming against the side of Romanoff’s head. Her legs’ grip loosened. Taylor lunged forward, forcing herself free.

She was up. Romanoff was halfway up.

Taylor spun. Her boot had the whole force of her body behind her when it hit Romanoff across the entire left side of her head.

The Black Widow collapsed.

Ten seconds.

It felt like shorter.

She had won.

 

//

 

Natasha’s whole body was humming with pain. Her head felt like it had been hit with a battering ram. When she got to her feet, it was a touch more shakily than usual.

She had lost.

She never lost.

But Swift, amid the cheers from her agents, was practically shining with pride, despite her limp and occasional wince. With her golden hair and warrior’s bearing, she resembled a lioness fresh from a difficult hunt. As Natasha noticed this, she walked over to her.

“Hey Romanoff,” she told her hoarsely.

“Hey yourself, Swift.” Natasha managed a smirk. “Not bad for an American.”

Swift laughed, which quickly turned into a wheezing cough.

“I’ll –  _cough_  – escort you out, then.”

The two of them, slow and in pain, carefully made their way through the excited Agency members. For appearances’ sake, Natasha gazed straight ahead; but Swift nodded and smiled at them on their way out.

In the elevator up, Natasha kept her eyes closed the whole time and neither one said a word. But it was almost a comfortable silence; although that may have been because each knew the other was currently unable to attack them.

Upon reaching the ground floor, they picked their way to the front through the groggy (and obviously terrified) security guards. Swift gestured to them to retake their positions, and they quickly snapped to it.

Just as the duo reached the front door, Natasha spoke into her comm:

“Stand down. Situation is over. I’ll be heading outside now.”

Then she turned to Swift. For a short while, the two women only stared at each other.

“Well…with luck and a little persuasion, I’ll soon see you again.”

Swift broke into a smile.

“Let’s hope that it won’t be under the same circumstances.”

Natasha gave her a matching smile before beginning to walk away.

“You had better put in a damn good word for us!” Swift called after her.

“Keep talking, and I may not!” Natasha called back. Both women shared one last grin, and Natasha climbed into the official S.H.I.E.L.D. car.

Clambering into the backseat, she ignored the pain and the look from the confused agent who was driving.

Instead, she dug out her phone.

“Fury? Yeah, it’s me. No, Swift was no trouble at all. Nope, I knew she wasn’t right when she walked in.”

The car started, moving forward into the neon-lit Manhattan night. The Agency building still seemed to loom in the rearview mirror.   

“Tell you about what happened when I get back. But in the meantime I have to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

Natasha took one last look in the rearview mirror, then took a deep breath.

“I think I may have found some new allies…”

 

//

 

_One Year Later…_

Taylor had been taking a break from work when the call came, which in itself was unusual. She’d been alternating between swearing at the Angry Birds app on her phone and texting Adam when Natasha’s face suddenly filled her screen.

She quickly sent  _Work stuff; gtg_  and then took the call.

“Hello? Natasha?”

“Taylor. We’ve got a serious problem.”

Several minutes later, Taylor had grabbed her weapons, slung on her utility belt, and had ordered a meeting for everybody in the building.

When everyone had gathered, Taylor got right to the point.

“Do you all remember last month when I told you all about the Tesseract and its alien origins?”

Murmurs of assent.

“It’s been stolen, and is being used for malevolent purposes. Meaning, the force that took it wants to enslave us all.”

Gasps and yells reverberated through the meeting room.

Taylor held up a hand for silence.

“They’re rebooting the Avengers Initiative. They need us. And I hate to sound melodramatic, but I’m pretty sure we have to save the world.”

“How much are we getting paid for this?” someone called in the back.

Taylor smiled grimly.

“Assuming we don’t all die, I can also assume that we’ll be well compensated.”

A minute or so passed of whispering among the group while Taylor waited. 

Finally, Knockout stood up.

“We’re in.”

Taylor grinned proudly.

“That’s what I like to here. Suit up, ladies. It’s time to assemble.”

 

–Fin–


End file.
